


Hot Baths (and Room Sized Matresses)

by RodimusPrime036



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Dionysus b like "spare Love and Affectionate pls" and we love to see it, Dionysus you fucking nerd, Does he seem OOC? probably, Emperor Calus more like. Uh., He loves his dumb cat, It's MY canon and I control the characters, M/M, Man i want chocolate milk, Oh sorry okay bye, Simp, This takes place way later in Roses but im an impatient bitch sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusPrime036/pseuds/RodimusPrime036
Summary: If ur not who I send this to don't read it 😤 (that's a joke but also no Calus Slander on my fics or ill attack you with a rabid raccoon)
Relationships: Calus/Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Hot Baths (and Room Sized Matresses)

Water has never quite looked so inviting. Steam curled from its surface, the air thick and heavy in his vents, the scent of rich soaps and gentle oils battling for his attention. His armor falls softly, carefully dropped at the edge of the pool-sized tub- his helmet was pried off, gauntlets up to shoulders stripped soon after. His chestplate was added to the pile soon after, followed closely by each separate piece of his greaves, until he was patiently peeling the flexible clothing underneath off and dipping a foot into the water. The tub was gigantic, at least the size of a pool, deep enough that he knew even Calus could stand in it and have it reach higher than his waist. Dionysus wasn't too concerned about that anyways; there was a smaller dip at the edge he stood by, where he could sit in the heated waters and have it just reach mid-chest, and small steps if he decided he wanted to go even further.

The water was wonderfully hot- just edging on dangerous heat, in that perfect zone between  _ too hot  _ and  _ not enough.  _ He knew that this was on purpose- the temperature was raised every time he came to visit, a minor detail Calus never overlooked. Speaking of; he can hear the Emperor murmuring to someone just outside, likely asking for privacy, (for his own sake, really, as Calus knew of his distaste for  _ them-time  _ being interrupted.) Dionysus sank slowly into the heated water, sighing contentedly as he rested his head against the softly cushioned edge and closed his eyes. The silky liquid rippled gently against his plating, a gentle froth of bubbles that lingered on his chest and smelled of flowers and fruits. (He knew if he opened his eyes, he would see the foam swirling like galaxies upon the blue satin surface.) 

He knows Calus has arrived by the heavy footfalls and the gentle clatter as his armor is swept away by a Loyalist for cleanup. (And by the way the water rises a few inches up his chest, the audible splash of liquid on metal. He cracks an eye open, watching the golden king settle in the tub, before watching the little psion scatter from the room with his armor and the massive doors crack shut behind them.) He forgets sometimes how much  _ bigger  _ Calus was than him, how he looms even as they both sit, though he doesn't feel threatened by the difference. 

He knows he's staring when Calus gives him a lazy look and a toothy grin, reaches out and gently runs a clawed finger over his cheek. Dionysus tilts happily into the motion, allows Calus to use his thumb to tilt his face up and around, as though he was being inspected. He blinks, long and slow, and Calus gives a pleased hum as he drags his thumb from his chin back over his cheek and draws back. 

"I trust the temperature is to your liking?" The Emperor muses, and Dionysus nods softly, turns until he can fully face the Cabal and offers a slanted smile. (Calus keeps his hand curled around his upper back, and Dionysus leans back into the massive palm. He always felt small beside the Emperor, in awe of how terribly  _ gentle  _ he is. How tenderly he runs his fingers over his shoulder, the careful way he adjusts to draw the titan closer without disturbing the water too much.) 

"And have you indulged in anything in our time apart?"  _ Ah, _ there was the question. It was clockwork; once a week when he was free from his Guardian duties, when they found themselves back in perfect temperatured water, when Calus worked on getting him to take pleasure in the little moments. 

"Does this not count?" He counters, and Calus laughs. (He  _ likes  _ that laugh, can feel the way it vibrates in his chest, sends water rippling and nudging into his plating.) 

"Now, my prince, you know the rules," Calus chides gently, and Dionysus huffs softly, skims a hand over the surface of the water to collect a small handful of froth while Calus nudges his shoulder. The Emperor doesn't  _ push;  _ his patience with Dionysus tended to be boundless, and so they basked in warm steam until Dionysus spoke again. 

"I took pictures," he admits quietly, and Calus seems pleased even in his silence.  _ ("Continue,"  _ he says wordlessly, and so Dionysus keeps going.) "Mostly of the frogs on Nessus, actually. I like to sit with them sometimes. And a few of me- in the new clothes you got me. Last visit." (And maybe he's a little shy about that part, but Calus gives another grin, one that makes his black eyes positively  _ sparkle,  _ and nods approvingly.) 

"I trust I'll get to see those ones?" He hums, and Dionysus snorts on a laugh and nods. Calus seems pleased, grinning lazily and gently running a finger along the back of his neck. (Dionysus, at full height, only stood around Calus' knee. The Emperor's palm was about the size of his entire midsection, yet he was still so  _ careful  _ whenever he handled the exo. That wasn't to say that the Emperor didn't have smaller bodies whenever being affectionate, but this one felt most genuine to the  _ actual  _ Calus.) 

"You are thinking, my little champion." Calus notes, and the titan blinked once before leaning heavily into the Cabal's side and purring softly when he curled his hand around his frame. 

"Only about you." He murmurs back, watching the cosmos hidden in the bubbles swirl and dance over the crystal water when Calus' form shakes with laughter. 

"Think about  _ celebration _ , _ " _ the Emperor advised, and Dionysus' eyes slanted in question. "My little light deserves a feast, does he not? We will adorn you in gold and gather the Leviathan's inhabitants, it has been too long since we have  _ celebrated!"  _ He throws his free hand into the air in a grand gesture, still beaming down at the exo, who blinked owlishly before leaning even heavier back into his hand. (Calus seems to understand the gesture, nodding sagely and petting at the back of his head until he closes his eyes and gives a rumbling purr.) "After our bath, of course. You may invite your little Guardian friends as well, if you wish," he adds, (and he is so soft when he touches him, when he glides his fingers over his plating and runs soapy water between the crevices in his plating to dislodge any hidden dirt.)

"You are kind, my Emperor," he says, (more a croon than anything,) and at Calus' near offended look, he laughs again. "My  _ love,"  _ he corrects, and the Cabal seems pleased again as he nods approvingly. (He knows the golden king is proud of him- playfulness didn't come easy, a learned habit, but he enjoyed indulging the Emperor when they didn't have an audience.) 

They rest in the bath for at least another hour, long enough that Dionysus slumps comfortably into the Emperor's side, that his eyes close and he finds himself dozing as Calus pets softly along his plating. He is warm and _safe_ , they are _alone,_ and so he sighs and 'indulges' in his partner's presence as long as he has him here. He stirs when someone else quietly enters the room, they drop something nearby before scampering back out, and he sighs heavily when Calus carefully scoops him up and deposits him on the edge of the tub. He doesn't bother opening his eyes for a long while, listens instead as Calus bustles through the room before returning to him. He handles him like glass; bundles his damp frame up into a towel big enough for a Cabal, saunters out of the tub room and into _his_ room. (Calus has a beautiful bedroom, if it could be called that. Brilliant golden decorations, a bed bigger than the entire bedroom of his own little home on Earth, tapestries and murals painted in metallic gold on dark purple walls, lit by sparkling lights that sent sparkles along the walls. Golden goblets and bowls bigger than he was full of large blue fruits the size of his fists were along the walls, bookshelves with stories of the Emperor's own greatness, of _him_ , of Ghaul and the void the ship had gotten lost in, accounts from Psions that told of Calus' words, of his love and his history, of his Shadows and his prophecies. (Dionysus had read every book, had gazed at each page and memorized all he could about his Emperor. Calus had gifted him his own little library for his home on Earth, though he had feverishly begged for only copied of Calus' own collection. Who had the Emperor been to deny him his own history, after all?) 

He is brought back to the present when Calus starts drying his plating. The towel he uses is soft as silk, smooth and delicate over his frame. He allows the Emperor to move him, to lift his arms and tilt his head, eyes half closed and unfocused even as he stares up at the smiling Cabal. 

"You're too good to me, my lord," he murmurs, and Calus coos softly, petting at his cheeks and turning to a small pile of clothing piled on the edge of the bed. 

"Just for you, my prince," he says, an edge of playfulness in the nickname in response to Dionysus' own, so terribly soft as he runs his thumbs over the condensation under his eyes, as he smiles a toothy grin at his deep purr and the way he leaned softly into his touch. "We will plan, yes? Proper invitations, preparation for your celebration." (Dionysus doesn't bother asking  _ what  _ they're celebrating- Calus simply adored the act of having  _ fun,  _ of living each moment like the last, of taking pleasure in high spirits. Calus adored loving and  _ being  _ loved, and Dionysus was happy to both accept and put out whatever the Emperor needed.) 

He is not embarrassed to be laid out before his partner, to be subject to his affectionate gaze as he pats water off his thighs and decides what he would look best in. This wasn't the first time he was exposed to him, to his warm, praising eyes, to the  _ look,  _ the one that called him  _ priceless _ with that  _ possessive  _ glint, (the one that reminded him that despite all of Calus' gifts and offerings, Dionysus was  _ his,  _ that he wouldn't be shared.  _ That  _ was thrilling, the occasional reminder that he wasn't a prize to anyone but the golden king.) Speaking of- Calus seems satisfied with his choice, carefully setting a few folded fabrics beside the sleepy exo before carefully moving his arms through the sleeves on a shirt. It is loose and wonderfully flowy, as light as a breeze as it brushed against his sides and over his arms. Definitely some type of silk- though possibly from another title. He lets Calus guide him through the motions of getting dressed, knows full well he can clothe himself, but allows the Emperor to do so for him. Calus enjoyed seeing how certain things fit, and anything he didn't approve of would be quickly disposed of. Dionysus got the feeling he also just enjoyed  _ contact,  _ something the titan also enjoyed openly, so he offers a growling purr when Calus runs his hands across his stomach and settles them on his hips, thumbs curled against his sides.

"What do you think, my dear?" Calus prompts, and he looks down at himself for the first time since he dropped his armor. The Emperor had a taste for pretty things; the purple fabric has golden metallic seams, soft swirling patterns of white and gold over the legs of the pants and the bottom of his shirt. The pattern went up to his thigh on one pantleg, swirling over the cuffs of his sleeves, and a thick white and gold ribbon curled like a mark over his waist. The colors matched his preferred, he noted gleefully, (because Calus  _ knew  _ he preferred mostly white or purple instead of gold,) and he closes resembles the Emperor's own purples and golds. He struggles to his feet, (Calus steadying him with a hand around his waist,) and grins, getting his footing on the massive mattress before slowly spinning in a circle. He stops on each side, raises his arms and stretches his frame in  _ just  _ the way Calus liked, and beams up at the positively  _ pleased  _ expression on his king's face. "You like it?" The Cabal inquires, (even if he knows the answer,) and Dionysus nods happily with a gentle purr.

"I do. You truly are too kind to me," he murmurs, and Calus' expression softens into something nearly unfamiliar. 

"When you pledged yourself to me, what did I promise you?" Dionysus doesn't need to think for longer than a moment, the memories as fresh as though they had just taken place even through the hundreds of years apart. 

_ "Paradise,"  _ he breaths, and Calus nods approvingly.

"Correct. And when you became  _ mine?"  _

"Anything I ever desired," at Calus' look, he continues. "You promised me that I would be with you at the End, and that I'd never be without anything I wanted if you could supply it." Another nod. Calus has leaned down closer to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch his face if he wanted.

"And with that, how much have you asked me for? How much have you allowed me to gift you?" Dionysus slants his eyes, deep and thoughtful, and Calus continues. "You have asked me for a  _ library _ filled only with the scribe's writings, and only what you needed to protect myself and the Leviathan." Ah, that made sense. Calus almost seems disapproving, so Dionysus reaches out and gently rests a cold palm on his face. He is so terribly  _ small,  _ but his expression still warms, and he leans down and gives the impression of a kiss that makes the little titan startle and purr. "There is no  _ 'too kind,' _ my prince. You simply refuse to allow me to give you what you deserve."

"I don't  _ need  _ to ask for anything," Dionysus argues softly, leans his weight into Calus' hands and sighs approvingly at the added heat. "You already give me anything I could want before I even think about it. Besides, I'd rather spend  _ time  _ with you than be offered any of the riches you have. I didn't pledge myself to you for your  _ wealth,  _ after all." (Calus has that soft look about him again, so he presses on before he can interupt.) "And I  _ do  _ love your gifts, but I prefer them as  _ surprises _ over something I  _ ask  _ for. Paradise is only perfect if I get to have  _ you, _ not some glittering things. Though, I do enjoy pretty stuff too." He playfully lowers his voice at the end, cheekplates slanting in a soft smile that is overshadowed by the golden king's own grin. (This response has pleased the Emperor, who tilted his head into his tiny palm and blinked slowly down at him.) 

_ "That,  _ my love, is why you deserve everything this universe has to offer before it collapses." His thumbs brush over his sides, feeling like the kiss of a star with their heat even over the thin silks, and he half closed his eyes with a contented sigh. "That is why, at the end of days, you will stand at my side." Dionysus nods agreeably, closes his eyes entirely when Calus dips down and presses another spattering of makeshift kisses over his face, his shoulders and neck, (and it was clumsy and imperfect, which was likely what  _ made  _ it so perfect in the first place.) His Emperor was comparable to a sun, massive and heated, a stark contrast to his own void-cold that he reveled in. (It is moments like these that he almost forgets his fears- where he forgets to wonder if he will be able to keep his Emperor satisfied until the End, where he doesn't think about the idea that any other Shadow had gotten to experience this. Something tells him they  _ didn't,  _ but it tended to be a guilty concern of his.)  _ No,  _ he is more than happy to stifle his subtle anxieties in favor of enjoying  _ them-time.  _ It was hard enough to get alone time with the Emperor- he tended to always be surrounded by Loyalists or scribes, important figures and minor leaders. (None compared to the Emperor-  _ once and future sovereign,  _ Match would say.  _ The true and golden king, _ Dionysus would agree.) 

_ Them-time  _ is interrupted by a quick series of knocks followed by the door sliding open. Dionysus jerks back, startling at the sound and tripping over the soft bedsheets, giving a sound like a surprised yelp when he fell backwards. For what it's worth, Calus doesn't laugh at him. On the contrary, actually, he looks momentarily cross as he straightens, before his usual expression of peace returns and he turns to the door. Match and a few Loyalists are hovering in the doorway, the Psion at least looking a little embarrassed at intruding as he flits his hands about and chatters softly. One of the Loyalists approaches, carrying his armor, (and he notes with fond amusement the way that Calus swiftly snatches the plating up before he can get to it. Another clockwork habit; his Emperor had learned how quickly he could suit back up even after a bath.)

Match chatters quickly to Calus, something about a new group of Guardians and the gardens, and Dionysus sighs as he rises and looks over the edge of the bed. (He could make that jump comfortably, couldn't he? He may not have had his Lions, but it wasn't too far down, and Anubis could fix it if he landed wrong. Speaking of- the ghost was out with Solus and Marksman, who had offered to give him alone time with the Cabal. He was grateful, but that did put a hindering on his jumping skills.) As though reading his mind, Calus turned abruptly, offering an amused grin as he noticed his plight. 

"Now, champion mine," he sounds playfully chiding, curling a claw under his chin to tilt his head up and blinking those star-reflecting black eyes, "wait for me here, yes? Councilor Match will keep you company while I deal with our…  _ guests." _ Match startles at his words, but nods agreeably, and peacefully accepts the help when Calus lifts him up on the bed. Dionysus is used to Match; they were long friends, since the Before. Dionysus enjoyed visiting the temple Calus had built for the Psion, and he and the Psion would often pour over writings. (They were both fond on Shagac's pieces, as well as Ixolt's, though those focused more on the future Calus has seen. Dionysus preferred learning of the past.) 

_ (He would stop that future, and Calus knew he would not sit aside without a fight. It didn't stop the Emperor from calling him the Shadow of Earth, even if he would slay the Darkness.)  _

__ He and Match talk for a long time. They discuss little things- from Match's old Gods to the Traveler, Ghosts and goblets, the End and the  _ now,  _ (they murmur Calus' praise freely between one another, bonded in their admiration for their Emperor, even if he was Dionysus' in a  _ different _ way.) Match calls him  _ prince,  _ different than the way Calus says it, compliments his outfit and laughs when he is told that the Golden King picked it for him. This was nice-  _ familiar _ , perhaps frighteningly so, how comfortable he was with the Leviathan's crew, but he enjoyed their conversation. (He remembers before Match had his temple, remembers his anxieties and fears in revealing his old Gods to the Emperor. Calus had been kind, as always, shown now in how freely the Psion chatted about his beliefs.) Speaking of the Emperor; his return is quiet, wandering back into the room and casting a brilliant grin at the chatting pair. Dionysus twists eagerly to face him fully, (takes feverish note that he seems fine- no damages, no injuries or scuffs, just a lazy, pleased grin and a fondness to his eyes as he approaches.) 

"Ah," Match nods sagely, dipping his chest a bit in greeting to the Cabal. "Our beloved Emperor returns."

"Everything went well?" Dionysus feels a little silly asking, but Calus' grin softens into something more assuring, and he nods patiently as he rests his hand on the mattress to loosely curl his fingers around his frame. (Dionysus promptly throws his arm over his hand, nuzzling happily into his thumb and sighing softly, and Calus pets gently at his cheek with a fond sort of expression.) 

"The Loyalists have escorted them from the ship," he informs pleasantly, "I'm afraid I didn't have time to humor them."  _ ("This is  _ **_us-time,"_ ** goes unsaid.  _ "You were waiting for me."  _ It is another small thrill- that the Golden King would come back to  _ him,  _ that he put off the company of other Guardians just so he could return to  _ them _ -time.) 

Match scampers out quickly when Calus returns, promising they could go over more of the past at a later time. The bed dips when his Emperor sits beside him, when he scoops him up against his chest and adjusts until they are settled back against massive pillows and thick sheets. Dionysus sprawls over Calus' chest; purrs and soaks in the heat like a cat sunning on a heated stone, like a deity lounging upon a sun- no, the _ Emperor  _ was a deity, mighty and benevolent, his graces were bountiful and his kindness was limitless. (And he was delightfully warm, cupping his hands around the little exo to cradle him safely within a cocoon of star-burn heat against his chest.) Calus, as he was now, didn't have a heartbeat- still, there was a dull thrum, a whitenoise deep within that lulled the titan into a dazed, sleepy haze. (Calus was safety, solid and  _ constant.  _ Calus would be here at the end, just as he was here now. Even if they were apart, there would be the time he was  _ here  _ again.) 

"Tell me, little champion," his Emperor's voice is a sugared croon, honey sweet, gravely and deep,  _ content.  _ (Just as much as Dionysus was.) "Is there anything you desire? Anything that would make your paradise any better?" And Dionysus hums, half opens his eyes and blinks long and slow. Was there anything? No, not that he could think of; he had his books, his armor and his weapons. He had his little pleasures- clothing the Emperor chose for him, little trinkets and treasures, necklaces and marks, (nothing he had asked for but had instead been  _ gifted,  _ soft offerings from his beloved.)

"No." He speaks firm, nuzzles into Calus' chest and sighs approvingly at the Emperor's rumbling laugh. "You're enough, but thank you." (Calus' laugh trails abruptly, and he jerks his head up, propping himself up on his elbows and blinking owlishly down at the Cabal.) "Did I say something wrong, my lord?" It is easy to slip back into official titles, so he hisses to himself for a moment. "My beloved," he corrects softly. Calus gently pets at his upper back, until he collapses back down and folds his arms under his chin to stare up at the Emperor. 

"Nothing wrong," the Cabal assures gently, (so gentle in both touch and voice, different than his usual tone.) "You amaze me, little Guardian, that is all." Dionysus purrs, soft and pleased, and Calus' laughter returns. (He laughs like he is constantly amused, like the world pleased him. And it  _ did,  _ but Dionysus pridefully knew  _ he  _ pleased him more than the world did.) They settle quietly together, as Dionysus closes his eyes again and the Emperor pat unknown rhythms against his plating. (He doesn't know why he bothered with a shirt; Calus bunches the fabric up over his lower back, against his shoulders, so he can pet over the indents on his plating beneath.) 

There will be the time when the End arrives, and he will be away from his beloved Emperor. But for now, he is content against sunshine heat and the fingers rubbing delicate circles against his sides, with the distant thrum in his chest and  **_them-_ ** time. (And one day Calus will leave, and he will need to face Death head on without him. But today he can be  _ held.  _ Today he can enjoy pool-sized baths and silk pajamas. Today he can doze off safe and secure, because his Emperor will be there when he wakes up, and that is  _ familiar.  _ He likes familiar.) 


End file.
